


mr ambiguous

by herzen



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herzen/pseuds/herzen
Summary: 5 times Hansol asks Minghao out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> original title was IDK MAN bc this came out of nowhere. srsly. sideyes @ self

The first time, Minghao looked up at Hansol's tight lipped smile, the odd way he kept his entire body leaned to the side. Hansol had his eyes trained on the skin between Minghao's eyes. If Minghao sniffed he could probably smell Hansol reeking of poorly feigned nonchalance. Seungkwan came to mind, unbidden. _Casual_ , Seungkwan said in english, once, leaning against their kitchen counter as Minghao and Jeonghan washed their dishes. The movie went on in the background. Seungkwan had heard the word and found it interesting enough to repeat over the next few minutes. He'd stopped only as Joshua passed by, eyeing Seungkwan with an amused smile.

"As in, to the restroom?" Minghao asked. "Sure."

"Um," Hansol said. "Cool." Tension rolled off his shoulders in small waves. Minghao watched it happen: the way whatever invisible pole Hansol was _casually_ leaning on seemingly disappear, so that instead of his body angled awkwardly to the side, his spine straightened, eyes finally set on Minghao's own. He still had a foot ready for bolting, though, Minghao noted.

And then: a palm facing up, outstretched. Minghao stared at it. No words accompanied the simple act, just Hansol's sharp intake of air prior to doing it. Minghao took it and pulled himself up from the floor, Hansol's grip strong, but not painful.

"Cool," Hansol said again. He wasn't letting go. He grinned at Minghao, pink in the cheeks, and Minghao didn't understand then, whatever it meant--just saw the way Hansol looked especially keyed up, nervous and jittery. His tiny hops in place were too inconspicuous to be done on purpose.

His hand was slightly wet, cold. The telltale sign of an anxious heart.

 

*

 

The second time, Minghao said "What?" and Hansol said "This is imposssible." Minghao had been busy going through a rap he'd thought on his own, running on the exhilaration of finding his work good enough to later show to other people. Those times were rare. Him showing other people, even rarer. He'd been so focused on his lines that Hansol's faraway voice had only registered after he'd erased an entire line and then tried writing a better one to replace it. He looked down and read, _Wrap you in my hey are you listening hyung._  

"I think," Minghao said levelly, wincing at what he wrote, "you should practice your lines more quietly."

Hansol stared at him. And then at Minghao's paper. And then at his own. Minghao followed his eyes and saw how empty Hansol's paper was, immaculately unwritten on and without folds. Hansol wasn't even holding a pencil.

"Oh," Minghao said, confused. "What were you doing?"

Hansol pinned him with his squinted eyes, first. He did this sometimes, tried communicating with you with his eyes alone, impossibly bright and unreadable. Once, Minghao had tried guessing, You need to take a shit? He was proud of his wording, having only learned it from Jihoon yelling it a few minutes back as Soonyoung rushed across the floor to their shared bathroom. Hansol had let out a scandalised gasp. Hyung! he'd said, with feeling. Later he'd explain that he was trying to tell Minghao to look behind him, see Seokmin rolling across the floor. What for? Minghao had asked. Nothing. He was just rolling on the floor.

Whatever Hansol was trying to say then, like any of the other times he'd done it to Minghao, flew over Minghao's head. _What are you saying, Choi Hansol_ , Minghao had tried communicating himself. It was impossible. Hansol's entire face was too distracting.

"I can't do this," Hansol said finally, letting his head fall on Minghao's shoulder.

The tips of his ears were red, the fine hair behind his ear soft looking.

 

*

 

The third time, walking home from an errand. Minghao counted change in his head. It was weird. Even his thoughts were in Korean, now. One, two, three--

"I want coffee," Hansol announced.

"We have practice," Minghao replied readily, still distracted. The coins in his hands were cold. He'd looked up when Hansol made no follow up, saw the look he pinned at something far away, invisible. If Hansol thought Minghao wouldn't notice the way he quickened his pace a little, he was wrong.

In the practice room Mingyu asked them, as soon as they stepped in, "Where's your coffee? 

"Hyung didn't want some," Hansol replied, and it wasn't true; Minghao did want some, just didn't want to stray from practice to give themselves a chance to indulge on stuff like overpriced coffee. Comeback was in two weeks.

"Ya!" Minghao turned to reason with Hansol, except Hansol's pressed his back against the mirror from across the room already, patting Junhui's bent leg so he'd stretch it and Hansol could lay his head down.

Frustration bubbled in Minghao's blood, and then dispersed, just as quickly. "We'll get you coffee later," he said instead, tone gentle. He'd followed to sit beside Hansol on the floor.

"Cool," Hansol grinned.

 

*

 

(The actual first time: Minghao didn't catch what the guy said. He'd opened his mouth, and immediately half the room let out a scream. It'd be a lie to say it didn't sound like _KYAAA_. Minghao turned and Hansol was there, equally enthused but unlike everyone else he was quiet, eyes trained on the TV.

"What did he say?" Minghao asked. 

"Will you go out with me," Hansol replied first, before slowly ripping his eyes away from the TV to look at Minghao instead.

"Will you go out with me?" Minghao repeated, tongue still unused to the way foreign syllables were formed. He butchered the sentence, he was sure, but Hansol just grinned, subdued but amused.

"Sure, hyung," Hansol said, and the bluish glow of the TV did nothing to hide the pink of his cheeks. "Why not?"

"Stop hitting on the new member," Wonwoo said, loud enough that everybody heard.

As if on cue, another round of the infuriating _KYAAA_ s. Hansol hid his face between his knees.)

 

*

 

The fourth time, to a movie. Minghao plucked the beanie that hung on the nearby couch and motioned for Chan to go to him. Chan was saying, "...I think if we left now we'd have more minutes to spare. Let's buy popcorn, and..." as Minghao fixed his fringe and made him wear the beanie, tucked stray hair behind his ears. 

"Hyung," Chan said, and Minghao said "Hm?" but Chan wasn't looking at him. He was talking to someone behind Minghao, so he'd turned to see who it was. It was Hansol, ready to go, disbelief etched on his face.

"Hyung!" Hansol said. Exasperation colored his tone. At a higher pitch it'd probably sound like an adorable whine. "Hyung!" Hansol repeated, and only then Minghao realised that he was talking to him.

"What?"

But Hansol just stayed still, unmoving. His eyes were comically wide, transparent. Not unlike the way [Seungcheol had widened his eyes](https://vine.co/v/iAlrYZOHXTh) when the straw broke off in the middle so the soda spilled on the table, embarrassingly messy. Except this time there was no soda spilled, and the vicinity wasn't messy; it was just Hansol staring at Minghao the same way you'd stare at someone spilling deets about you and you'd caught them in the process. That kind of disbelieved stare. 

"What?" Minghao asked again, because Hansol seemed intent on staying a rock.

It was Chan who spoke up. "Oh," he'd said, eyes darting between Hansol and Minghao. "Oops."

"WHAT?"

 

*

 

(But it's not like Minghao never tried, either. A few months after the movie, during a time where everyone's suspended waiting for the date of their debut, flitting from practice rooms to recording studios to language lessons, Minghao had pulled Hansol aside and said, running on the adrenaline of finally finishing another bout of gruelling hours of practice, "How does that line go again? From that Jung Woosung movie?"

Hansol had blinked. Everybody else was either passed out or ready to, and Hansol was no exception. He'd blinked so slowly Minghao was sure he would finally close his eyes for real, succumb to the exhaustion branded on his limbs, the ache in his muscles that mirrored Minghao's own. But he'd seen, a few hours back: Hansol staring at him, eyes trained at his figure on the mirror from the other side of the room. Minghao saw only because he had to rip his eyes away from himself, feeling frustrated at his continuous slip ups during practice. He'd locked eyes with Hansol instead, saw the desire there, unmistakeable even if Hansol denied it to the moon and back. He'd realised, then: Hansol liked him. The epiphany was a long time coming, didn't even faze him at all, just gave him the courage to stare back, smile, and watch with the tiniest spike in his blood as Hansol started, flustered, and looked away. 

"Will you go out with me?" Hansol had said, squinting. He seemed to be running on autopilot, ready to answer questions when asked, words slipping from his tongue with an ease that said the speaker didn't care anymore what they even meant, context be damned.

"Sure," Minghao had replied immediately, and Hansol merely blinked some more, leaned against him, and finally passed out.)

 

*

 

The fifth time: alone. Fucking finally. There's no room for any other interpretation. It's a quiet question, but Hansol's voice carries through the equally quiet room with clear intent. It's a shame Minghao can't see Hansol's face as he says it; the underside of Hansol's mattress is bleak and uninteresting in comparison. There's a shift--Minghao feels the entire bunk move. And then a hand, hanging from the upper bunk, lifeless. Minghao stares at it first, waiting for the head that usually came with it to appear. And it does, a few seconds after. Any other time Hansol's got entire people in the way, voices and everyday sounds to drown out his nervousness, shit to hide behind when so much as a confused _What_? from Minghao arises; this time it's just him and Minghao and the need to face his inability to have the guts to ask a simple question.

"Hyung," Hansol calls, voice small, unsure. His hand's still suspended, as if reaching out, but not sure how to.

Minghao sits up, bypasses the hand altogether, and rubs a knuckle against Hansol's cheek as an answer. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> one day im going to actually finish wips with actual thought out plots instead of short pieces like this born out of sudden fond feelings but today is not that day


End file.
